


finding you

by phanpuppies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: :), Bisexual Ginny Weasley, Canon Compliant except I make people LGBT, F/M, FTM Harry Potter, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Fuck JK Rowling, POC Harry Potter, Trans Harry Potter, Trans Male Character, nothing explicit happens while they're underage but it gets a little steamy, so just a warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23690248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phanpuppies/pseuds/phanpuppies
Summary: Suddenly, something shifted. As Harry tilted his head to gaze at her and the firelight finally hit his skin, lighting up the shades of brown, sparkling in his green irises, a change went through his eyes. It rippled the playfulness there like wind through tall grass. When it had passed, he had a curious look on his face that Ginny couldn’t quite identify. His eyes were… soft, somehow. There was joy and trust and humor, but also a sort of sadness. He looked vulnerable and tender, and for a moment Ginny swore no one had ever looked at her like that.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	1. finding you in rorschach's ink blots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Ginny and Harry's relationship wasn't given enough attention in the books, and I have way too much free time during this quarantine. So I'm writing some of the important moments during the series that were never really discussed, and then I'll get into post-war stuff because hey, it's free real estate. I think that they have a beautiful dynamic and if the main character is going to spend his life with someone, we should get to see more of how they got there.  
> Just so you know, Harry is not white in this story. I like to imagine him and Ginny the way the lovely artist upthehillart (who can be found on Tumblr, Deviantart, and Instagram) portrays them.  
> This takes place towards the end of Half-Blood Prince.  
> P.S. For full vibes, read while listening to this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfNz8Ch7auM and this: https://harry-potter-sounds.ambient-mixer.com/hufflepuff-commonroom  
> Enjoy :)

“Ouch! What was that for?”

She knew he wasn’t actually in pain, she hadn’t punched him that hard. The hurt cry had likely been born out of surprise and a bit of playful exaggeration. But Harry met her gaze with an indignant look, eyes wide and brow furrowed as though he had been viciously affronted.

“What’re you going to do, Chosen One? Cry about it?” 

Harry rubbed his shoulder where her knuckles had connected and shrugged, the edge of his lip twitching.

“Maybe I will.”

It was Ginny’s fifth year at Hogwarts, and she had finally begun to feel comfortable around the Boy-Who-Saved-Her-Life. She had realized as she finally got to know Harry her previous year that he really wasn’t all that she had made him out to be. He was no hero to squeal at and run from, he was a kid just like her. A good kid, but a regular one. Sure, he happened to mysteriously be placed in situations where he needed to act heroic far more often than his peers, but she would probably have done the same things had she been in his place. Ginny found that the two of them were actually more similar than she had thought, and they now frequently exchanged glances when strange or amusing things happened. It was as though they shared some kind of understanding.

She had idealized this boy so much in her youth that she found herself constantly surprised when she first started to get to know him. Seeing him brush his teeth at The Burrow while she waited for the sink, silently sharing amused looks with Hermione in the common room while he groaned about his homework, and good naturedly cringing at dinners when she heard him make bad jokes all made her realize his humanity. 

Unfortunately, Ginny had only grown to like the mundane side of him even more than the great protagonist of a children’s story that she used to imagine. But for the first time in her life, she had been able to put her feelings for him aside and appreciate his friendship as it began to blossom between them.

She knew she would get over him eventually, but even when she was dating Dean, Harry always seemed to be in the back of her mind, itching at her skull. She had not broken up with Dean because of Harry, though he may have had a factor in the fighting and the jealousy that extinguished whatever had once sparked between them. But ultimately, though she had liked Dean and felt all the right things, she knew it wasn’t meant to be from the beginning of their relationship. But clearly she and Harry weren’t meant to be either. She just had to wait, she would repeat to herself. She would get over this boy eventually. Eventually.

Ginny squinted at Harry with what she hoped was a challenging stare. Most people had gone to bed now, and it must have been a little after midnight. A low murmur was coming from a couple of other groups of students, while the waxing moon outside shone bright on Gryffindor tower. The bright fire of the common room was crackling quietly behind Harry, casting shadows on his face and masking his green eyes. They were unreadable, but something was pulling at the corner of his mouth. The dark skin at the edges of his face was touched by the flames, glowing with golden light, and when he licked his lips they shone, but Ginny tried very hard not to notice that. 

“Don’t go flicking your ink at me like that again, or my next target will be your nose.” She warned. The first two times it had happened, she let it slide, but evidently it had been Harry’s intention to bother her. She supposed he wanted a break from the monotony of the History of Magic textbook he had been reading. Her voice came out rougher than she intended, and Harry’s thick eyebrows raised, so she proceeded to give him a toothy grin. Hopefully, the flash of teeth still came off just a bit intimidating.

Harry’s first instinct was to put on a very innocent look, reminiscent of a puppy caught chewing on shoes and pretending not to see the bite marks.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just write really… vigorously.” His voice was falsely sweet as he tried unsuccessfully to keep a straight face, his eyes shining and betraying the laughter he was holding back.

“All over my essay on Selkies, you git!” Ginny laughed.

Harry grinned and said a bit dryly, “Well, my nose has already been broken once this year. What have I got to lose? I can just ask Luna to fix it.” One eyebrow was quirked in challenge and he clasped his hands calmly on the round table without breaking eye contact.

Ginny dropped her quill, scooted her chair a little closer, and leaned in for the full effect of her threat. She was now only about a foot from Harry’s face, but she tried not to pay attention to the faint heat blooming in her cheeks. 

“Oh, no. I didn’t mean with my fist. I’ll Bat-Bogey Hex you into next week, Potter.” She said steadily.

Harry instantly leaned back and lifted his hands in defeat, a caricature of fear on his face. “Alright! Fine, Ginny, you win.”

Ginny gave him a sweet smile with an edge of smugness. She pulled her scroll and quill over to her, Harry returned his gaze to the thin, yellowed pages of his book, and they continued to work side by side in a comfortable silence. 

About half an hour later, when she was midway through the essay, Ginny set down her quill and cracked her knuckles, shaking out the tightness that was beginning to cramp her hand. She yawned and stretched, and was just starting to think about her bed, with its big warm comforter and assortment of fluffy pillows… When suddenly a certain messy-haired boy leaned over her paper, shot her a devilish look, and very purposefully dropped one large ink blot onto the side margin.

Ginny’s eyes got very large and her mouth dropped open in mock anger. 

“Oh, you did _not_ just do that!” She cried, reaching to pull her wand out of her back pocket. She stuck it in Harry’s face, who made no attempt to get away or fight back. One pale, freckled hand had settled right between his eyes and just close enough so that Harry went a little cross-eyed looking at the smoothly carved wand. A shadow of a smile still played upon his lips, though his eyebrows were raised in interest as he looked up at Ginny and watched for what she would do next.

“I _will_ do it!” Ginny insisted, grinning and pushing the wand an inch closer.

Suddenly, something shifted. As Harry tilted his head to gaze at her and the firelight finally hit his skin, lighting up the shades of brown, sparkling in his green irises, a change went through his eyes. It rippled the playfulness there like wind through tall grass. When it had passed, he had a curious look on his face that Ginny couldn’t quite identify. His eyes were… _soft,_ somehow. There was joy and trust and humor, but also a sort of sadness. He looked vulnerable and tender, and for a moment Ginny swore no one had ever looked at her like that. 

It made her breath catch in her throat. She dropped her wand to her side and her smile faded to a pale ghost of itself. Something stirred at her center, a heat, a twisting. It was as though a fiery serpent had begun to slither through her intestines and up to her chest.

“I know you will.” Harry murmured.

As quickly as the moment had come, it passed. Ginny shook her head, forcing a little chuckle. She quickly looked back down at her ink-dotted essay and swallowed to push back the serpent, which had gone still again. She glanced back at Harry out of the corner of her eye and saw that he suddenly seemed terribly interested in magic history, for he was now hunched over, his gaze glued to the dusty old book. His face was tight and still like a stone mask as his eyes flickered just a little too quickly over the page.

“Well, I think I’d better be off to bed now,” Ginny chirped, putting her wand back into her pocket and beginning to gather her things. Even to her own ears, though, her voice had an unevenness, a tremble. She swallowed again.

“See you, Harry.” Ginny said over her shoulder as she walked away, trying to walk casually and contain the energy that was buzzing through her legs. She glanced over her shoulder as she went and was met by an uncertain smile and a hand raised in farewell.

Ginny trotted up the steps to her dormitory and plopped down on her bed. The other girls were all asleep. She sat there, staring at the frayed edge of the red and gold rug beneath her where it met the cold stone floor. Her stocking feet shifted, toes tapping slowly, thoughtfully.

 _Was that really… anything?_ She asked herself, mind flitting here and there like a cornish pixie. The look in his eyes, the way he had gazed at her as if seeing her for the first time, she felt it. It was as though something had travelled between them, some rope thrown and hooked, in those few simple seconds. It pulled on her now, just below her sternum. 

Ginny’s toes twitched with the urge to run back down the flight of stairs, throw her arms around the boy, and hold him. Just that. Just to feel the warmth of him through his shirt, to breathe in that scent she had grown so accustomed to, like a sea breeze and something warm mixed together. She wanted him to be able to open up to her, to let out all the pain he held in. She knew she could never fix him, but she wanted to make it better.

_Shit._

She was really in for it now, wasn’t she?

Ginny scrunched up her face and shook her head, ginger hair tumbling around her face. She stood up with some amount of determination and undid the button on her jeans, before sitting back down on the edge of her bed and tugging hard when the tight pants refused to come off her ankles. When she got to her feet again and pulled off her long sleeved shirt, her hair immediately became frizzy and clung to her cheeks. She pushed it away impatiently and unclasped her bra, placing it in her open trunk and picking out a soft oversized t-shirt to wear to sleep. Just before pulling it over her head, Ginny glanced down at herself. Not for the first time, she couldn’t help but wonder what Harry would think of her body. Trying to better embody the independent young woman she knew was inside her, she pushed those thoughts out of her mind.

Boys aside, what did _she_ think of her body? For several years she felt wrong in it, something she could thank Tom Riddle’s possession for. Such a lack of control over her own self took its toll, and no doubt contributed to her insecurity. About a year ago, however, she had decided to start saying three nice things about her body whenever she looked at it with a critical eye. It felt dumb at first. But it helped.

She had always been rather skinny, and though she was fifteen now, she remained rather flat chested. There was still no sign of curves in her hips, and when she was on her period her stomach bloated and extended beyond her breasts. But she liked her legs, they were long and lightly freckled. There, another thing; she did like her freckles. She was really quite pale, and her skin turned weirdly pinkish sometimes when she was cold… but hey, she had been getting a faint outline of abs ever since she started doing sit-ups and such to warm up before quidditch practices. Ginny savored this feeling of strength and power; the constant longing to prove herself worthy was temporarily satiated by the development of hard earned muscles. She pulled her shirt over her head and looked up at the ceiling as the image of Harry’s face, illuminated by the flames, floated to the surface once more.

Ginny gave a frustrated sigh, falling back onto her bed with some force. It dipped under her weight before bouncing her back up a little, reminding her of the times when she used to jump on her bed as a little girl, despite her mother’s loudly expressed disapproval. Once, during a particularly boring summer, she spent hours a day for a whole week leaping around on the mattress. She liked to imagine that she was whipping up and down on a broomstick, soaring high above the ground. Then one day she flopped onto the covers only to discover, rather painfully, that her bed had been transfigured to a large stone slab. Her mother had acted vehemently confused when confronted about this issue, but had somehow been too busy to fix it until a week later. Ginny was still a tad bitter about this, but she was glad she had inherited her mum’s spirit.

Before she could get lost in childhood nostalgia, Ginny felt something knocking once more at the door of her consciousness, waiting impatiently to be addressed. She sighed and sat back up. She scooted backwards on the bed to lean against the pillows and pulled her knees to her chest. She rested her chin in between them and blinked slowly. 

Alright. Fine. She would think about this.

The logical side of her, the side that was sick of unrequited feelings and didn’t want her to be hurt again, said that this was just a last ditch effort to convince herself that there was hope. It was a moment crafted entirely in her head and nothing to waste another minute thinking on.

Perhaps that voice was right. Perhaps this was just the final step in her silly crush and then she could truly get over him. Surely that look on his face could have just been exhaustion, right? They had been messing around, but she had challenged him and he merely tried to convey with his expression that he wasn’t in the mood. Right. That should be it, then.

But Ginny’s gut shouted that something more had happened when he looked at her, that she had not made up that moment, that he had felt it too. 

Her gut whispered that after all these years, Harry Potter finally _saw_ her.

And Ginny Weasley always trusted her gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, genuinely. I'll try to get the next chapter up soon! It will take place after the moment that Ginny and Harry kiss for the first time (the way it happens in the book).


	2. feeling you in the raindrops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Harry looked around; there was Ginny running toward him; she had a hard, blazing look on her face as she threw her arms around him. And without thinking, without planning it, without worrying about the fact that fifty people were watching, Harry kissed her."  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want this chapter to imply that it's necessary for a trans person to tell someone that they're trans before dating, as I know many trans people wait until a few dates have gone by and then come out once they've decided they're comfortable with the person and the relationship is getting serious enough. I just wrote it this way because I think Harry would want to get it over with immediately. Also, Ginny isn't bisexual just for being open to a relationship with a trans man! Straight women can date trans guys because trans guys ARE guys. I'll dive more into her sexuality later on, but I'm just putting that out there for now.

Ginny’s face was on fire. 

Roses bloomed across her cheeks and nose, bright red beneath her freckles. She felt giddy and a bit light headed as she stood there facing Harry, breathless while the rest of Gryffindor looked on. As the wolf whistles and giggles began to die down, people turned back to the party they’d been having and the hum of chatter resumed. Ginny smiled and watched as Harry’s gaze, which had been flitting between the watching faces, fell on her at last. The hot serpent in her navel, which had ignited the very instant she saw Harry, propelling her across the common room and into his arms, began to wriggle. It was a bit uncomfortable, almost like gas or heartburn, but Ginny wasn’t sure she particularly disliked it. She tucked a wayward strand of red hair behind her ear and, noting his little gesture to leave the room, walked with Harry to the portrait hole. As he slid through the entrance a little awkwardly, she tried not to smile too big, tried to control her breath and still her heaving heart. She followed, feet landing solidly on the stone floor of the corridor. The portrait of The Fat Lady swung shut with a soft clunk, but neither of them noticed. As she pushed her hair back from where it stuck to her still-sweaty forehead, Ginny looked up at the boy she had spent so much of her life hoping for. 

Harry looked just the way she felt, though his dark complexion masked the blush that she knew was probably tingling in his face. His hair was messy, even messier than usual, his mouth was quirked into a small, embarrassed sort of grin, and his eyes were shining like a child on Christmas morning. They shared a long look, before Ginny stretched her hand out to her side, glanced down at it, glanced back up at Harry, and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

And after a moment he grasped it, and his hand was cold and his knuckles were dry and her palm was hot and slick with sweat. And it was perfect.

They walked with careful steps and secret smiles through the winding castle. Most of the school was in their common rooms, as was often the case after Quidditch games, and the few faces they saw were too absorbed in their own thoughts or conversations to notice that Harry Potter was holding hands with Ginny Weasley. Their footfalls murmured with a transient tranquility that neither had felt for quite some time. Their gates matched each other step for step, their breaths shared a steady rhythm, and though they could not have known, their hearts did as well.

Despite the silence, much like the other night, there existed no awkwardness between the two. They both knew that they did not need constant chatter to enjoy one another’s company.

The pair descended the steps to the grounds, and as she felt the soil beneath her feet, Ginny took a deep breath. The sky was bright blue and dotted with light, plump clouds, the Black Lake was sparkling as it reflected the sun, and the calls of songbirds and crows created a dichotomous melody. She sniffed a little, catching a whiff of something smokey in the fresh spring air.

“Hagrid must be cooking something, it’s too warm out for a fire otherwise.” Ginny noted.

She heard Harry inhale and his eyes lit up. “I love the smell of fire,” he said eagerly. 

Ginny hummed in agreement, then came to a halt, facing him, and ventured, “Do you want to go down by the lake? I know a nice spot where we could sit and watch the sun set. Or at least, you know, start to set. Before curfew,” there was a pause, then she quickly added, “if you want.” She kept her expression open, as though a thousand little fears were not crowding her mind, trying to convince her there was something she was doing wrong. Ginny knew she was good at this, though. And it was easy with Harry. She was surprisingly comfortable with him due to the months he had spent at the burrow over the years, the two of them teasing Ron and Fleur and each other every chance they got. She just hoped that her nerves didn’t betray her. A first kiss with other boys had never left her so… frazzled.

“Yeah! Yeah, sure,” Harry grinned. “That sounds really… yeah!” Well, it was good to know at least that he was equally frazzled.

Ginny tilted her chin at him skeptically, as though about to tease him for his rather lame response, but then just shook her head and began to lead the way to a large Beech tree by the shore. 

As she pulled him along, a gap in the roots of the great tree became visible where springy moss was nestled. It was a pleasant little nook, and it seemed as though it would perfectly fit two people sitting close together. Ginny, who had been a few steps ahead, let go of Harry’s hand and sat down cross-legged. He sat next to her carefully, as though he might harm the tree or the moss beneath them. He stretched out his legs and leaned back against the tangle of roots. As he shifted his weight, his shoulder brushed against Ginny’s. She glanced at the point of contact with a small smile, then down at the hand Harry had rested on his leg, palm up. Ginny reached out and laced their fingers together. A tiny sigh floated out of her mouth as she lifted her eyes to look out at the water rippling before her.

Harry cleared his throat and his shoes tapped together once, twice. “So do you… I mean, I’d like it if- well, if you…” he fumbled, voice low and soft. He sighed, apologetic eyes accompanying the crooked smile on his face.

“Alright, don’t hurt yourself,” Ginny giggled, though her voice lacked its usual edge. “ I’ll do it for you. Harry James Potter, would you do me the honor of going out with me?” She spoke the words with a playful formality, but her earnestness was clear in her eyes and the way her voice lilted upwards at the end.

Harry’s face relaxed into a relieved grin. “Yes.” 

But as quickly as it had relaxed, his face tightened once more, almost folding in on itself in apprehension. “But, Ginny, there’s something I should tell you before you decide you want to be with me.”

“Harry, I don’t care what-”

“Please,” He begged, “Just let me speak.” There was something in his voice that made Ginny close her mouth. She silently nodded for Harry to continue.

“I’m transgender.” It came out in a rush. Harry continued rapidly, slurring his words a little but speaking in a clear, well-rehearsed voice. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, but it means that when I was born, I was assigned the gender of a girl. But I was never a girl, not inside, and when I first met Hagrid, he showed up with a potion that helped my body look… well, the way I always knew it was supposed to look. When I asked how he could tell I was a boy, he said Dumbledore had told him. Somehow, he just knew. Anyway, all I had to do was take the potion each week, and by the time school started everyone just assumed I was a boy. The _Boy_ Who Lived.” The ghost of a smile passed over his face, before quickly flitting away. “I still take it, every week. There’s… a lot more to the story, of course. But you don’t have to hear it. I just thought you should know. Right now, before you’ve made any commitment. I understand that it’s not- it’s not who you thought I was, and I get it if-”

Ginny took Harry’s face in her hands and kissed him firmly. The touch was brief, but it got the point across. Their foreheads pressed together and Ginny didn’t remove her hands from his cheeks as she began to speak.

“I don’t care,” she declared fiercely, emphasizing each word. “It doesn’t matter to me what you look like, or how you were born. You’re the same person who captured my attention when I was eleven. Eleven, Harry! You’re brave and humble and strong, and - and funny and kind, and none of that stops being true just because I find out that you’re trans too. I’d be proud to have you as my _boyfriend_.”

Harry looked as if he grew a little lighter in that instant. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his brow, from the corners of his lips, from his shoulders. For a moment, he seemed not to know what to do with himself. His mouth hung slightly open, limp and mute, while his eyes searched Ginny’s brown gaze. Finally, he just gave a small smile, leaned in toward his girlfriend, and kissed her properly.

One hand went to the small of her waist, tracing the thin fabric of the red and gold Quidditch undershirt she was still wearing, and the other found itself on the side of her neck, just below her ear. His palm pressed gently against her warm skin while his fingers threaded through her hair. Ginny melted into the touch and wound her arms around Harry’s neck, both hands getting lost in his messy locks. Their mouths, however, seemed to connect in slow motion. Ginny could feel Harry’s breath, and when she breathed in she swore she could also feel the electricity in the air between them. 

When at last, at last, their lips fell together, it was like a thunderstorm subdued. The kiss was nothing more and nothing less than a light shower of rain quenching the thirst of a parched desert. Harry’s lips were as soft as a cloud heavy with drops of water and they easily gave way when Ginny gave a small push forward, as though sculpted by a breeze. Just then, everything was relaxed and quiet, and the delicate sounds of their mouths moving together were like the patter of raindrops.

Ginny wasn’t really used to slow kisses, but she decided right then that she liked them very much. The heightened sensitivity meant that each movement alighted a new spark, every shift observed and meticulously filed away into memory. The ephemerality of that moment hung heavy over their heads, so they held one another all the more tightly and kissed one another all the more carefully.

When at last, at last, their lips floated apart, it was like the sun coming out again. And though both Ginny and Harry had appreciated the cool drizzle, the relief from their daily drought, the heat felt more manageable now. There were hopeful grey clouds gathering on the horizon, a promise of more rain to come. Ginny’s hands started to drift away from his neck, but Harry took hold of them, keeping them there, a politely pleading look in his eyes. Recognizing that he didn’t want to talk, that he just needed _this_ at the time, Ginny tightened her arms back in place.

“Just for the record, I would love to hear the rest of your story. But if you would rather snog all night and save that for another time… well, I _suppose_ that’s fine with me.” She crooned.

They both laughed, and the water bubbled with a fish, or perhaps a mermaid. The birds seemed to sing a little louder, and the trees whispered as they rustled in the breeze. The sky shone golden as the sun began to drain into the lake, and the bugs that had been happily buzzing all found a place to rest for a moment.

And as their heads bowed together once more, Harry and Ginny heard the distant rumble of a storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, get it? Like storm because they're gonna kiss again and I used rain as a metaphor but also storm because it's HBP and Dumbledore's death is coming??!! Foreshadowing! Hah! I seem to have over-explained it. Ah, well.


	3. lifting you off the ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a brief description of gore at the beginning, but it shouldn't be too much unless you're really squeamish. Also this chapter has some pretty intense makeouts (with groping oh my gosh :0), so uh keep that in mind if it bothers you! It's really not bad but I thought I'd put a warning just in case.

_“Harry.”_

Harry whipped his head away from the quidditch match he’d been watching, where Ginny darted around above him. All the other players seemed to be blurry and dull next to her spark. A fiery pain went through his neck as he turned too quickly, and the grin he had been wearing froze on his face at the sight before him. Gone was the cheering of the crowd. Gone was the sunlight on his scalp. He was enshrouded completely in a penetrating darkness. He felt sheets of ice fill his lungs; then the ice shattered and his mouth twisted into a scream. He watched those bright eyes dim, watched the hollow cheekbones cloud over as they passed through that misty veil, watched his only remaining family fall backwards out of existence. 

Something exploded inside him, and shrapnel lodged itself in the tender inner walls of his throat. Suddenly he was everywhere, bits of his skin on the walls, his teeth strewn across the rocky floor, blood sticking to his vision and everything else. He felt no pain. No longer constrained by his body, he flew to Sirius. He pulled him out of the archway, pulled him out of his carcass, and held him. Just for a few seconds, they floated blissfully over the carnage of the world, detached and whole and finally safe. No one could hurt them in the forms they had become. So why could Harry still feel himself screaming, as if something terrible had happened? Why were hot tears streaking down his face? When he finally withdrew from the embrace, he saw that gaunt mouth open almost imperceptibly. 

_“Harry, please.”_

-

Careful palms supporting his head, Ginny watched as eyelids traced with veins like spiderwebs flickered frantically, the eyes beneath shifting back and forth with feverish intensity. She saw the way his jaw and neck strained, the way his brow beaded with a cold sweat, the way his lower lip twitched with desperation. She pressed her lips to his clammy forehead and murmured his own name into his skin like a siren call.

“Harry. Harry.”

With a great jerk, Harry’s eyes flew open and he gasped for breath. He tore himself from Ginny’s gasp, gaze wild, but after an instant he collapsed into her shoulder. With shuddering lungs and an ache in his chest, he clung to her.

“Sorry.” The meager apology was squeezed into the space between his mouth and her chest and Ginny blew it away with a scoff of disbelief.

“No. Hush. Just keep that bloody mouth of yours shut if all it’s going to spill is apologies. _You_ _know_ it’s okay. It’s alright.” 

Silence was settled over the library like a heavy woolen blanket. The sun shone through aged windows and illuminated the dust motes lingering uncertainly in the air. Ginny and Harry had decided to work through lunchtime, and it was Saturday, so the space was completely deserted. Ginny had to study for her O.W.L.s, and Harry had suddenly grown very eager to work on his Potions homework at her announcement, though he had soon wilted onto her shoulder and fallen asleep. Ginny knew he hadn’t been getting much rest lately, or all year really, so she had merely adjusted her arm to make it more comfortable for him and continued to pore over her Astronomy notes, trying to decipher the clumsy cursive. After about a half an hour, however, Harry’s steady breathing had faltered and given way to irregular little gasps.

Now, he took three deep breaths and shifted away from Ginny, his arms stretching high above his head, unfocused eyes directed at the tattered books across from him. Ginny watched him carefully, blushing when her eyes landed on the strip of exposed rich brown skin above his belt. Her gaze snapped back up to his face.

“How’s astronomy going?” Harry yawned.

“Oh, it’s alright! Well, it’s not great, actually… I just can’t get myself to care about Jupiter’s moons or any of it, really. But I think I’ve gotten a good amount of memorizing done for now.”

Harry gave a small grunt and shot her a sympathetic look before rubbing his eyes and closing his notebook. Ginny considered asking him whether he wanted to grab something to eat now, but then she noticed how his whole body drooped. Not with hunger, and not with simple exhaustion. Something about his expression reminded her of a cracked porcelain doll. Eating lunch and pretending everything was okay was the last thing he needed. Ginny stood, dropped her book into her bag with a soft _thud,_ and placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. He looked up at her with a small smile and holes in his eyes.

“You know what? If you’re finished studying Potions…” She started, with a gently teasing quirk of her eyebrow. “I think I know what you need.”

“Oh, yeah?” He injected a hint of suspicion into his voice. “I guess I’ll have to trust you, then.” He was still putting on that worn out amused facade.

Ginny looked at him a little sadly. “Harry, you don’t have to pretend.”

His face fell. It was somewhere between relieved and self-conscious. 

“It’s okay. Come on,” Ginny coaxed, placing Harry’s notebook in her bag as well and slinging it over one shoulder. She took Harry’s hand and tugged him up out of his seat. She knew he wasn’t a fan of being pitied, so she tried not to seem too sympathetic as she did all this. Ginny didn’t pity Harry, though. Not really. He was strong and independent, always wanting to face the world on his own. She respected that. Hell, she was attracted to that. But everybody needed somebody, right? She felt his pain, saw the way he shouldered it all on his own, never sharing the burden. She ached to help him carry it. Even if, as she suspected, they would not be able to stay together for long. Harry deserved that.

Ginny led the way from the library, through twisting corridors and up and down the stationary staircases while others swung like pendulums around them. Like that first day heading to the lake, their footsteps fell in tandem and neither said a word except to greet Sir Nicholas, whom they almost walked through.

“Almost there,” Ginny assured him a short time later.

Silence, again. Then the colorful tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy and his dancing trolls emerged from behind one of the hallway’s many columns, and Ginny heard Harry’s small exhale as, at last, he recognized where they were. Evidently, he had either not approached the Room of Requirement from this direction, or more likely, he had been too absorbed in his own thoughts. In a funny way, Ginny was almost honored that he had followed her so easily, without trepidation. Harry really did trust her. At least, he trusted her with important things… Ginny doubted he would ever let her near his quills again after she spent one morning figuring out how to charm one to doodle penises instead of whatever he tried to write in class. He’d entered the common room later that day huffing and trying not to laugh as he thrust his Defense Against the Dark Arts notebook into her face, which was littered with crude pictures of genitalia and little scribbles where he had tried to muscle his quill into behaving. _“Snape almost saw, you little git! Twice!”_ Ginny’d had a hard time acting very sorry for this, as Ron seemed rather proud that his little sister had such a sophisticated sense of humor. Even Hermione had been fighting back a grin, though she still shook her head at Ginny, prompted her to put the quill back to normal, and offered Harry her own notes to copy down. Later that day, however, Harry had snogged Ginny for a good ten minutes after she brought up the incident again, so she figured he hadn’t been too upset. If anything, he’d kind of liked it.

The grand archway slowly emerged from the plain stone wall before them as they stood there, each wondering what they’d be presented with when they entered. Still holding her hand, Harry hauled open the door, and Ginny slipped in after him. 

The first thing that hit her was the smell, warm and faintly sweet, like caramel. When she looked around, she realized it must have been the candles that hovered peacefully around a large, plump, dark blue couch. _Yes, that would do._ Ginny smiled up at Harry. 

“Shall we?”

Without looking away from each other, they practically floated over to the corner of the room where the couch sat and lowered themselves onto the cushions with the gratitude of two people who had had very long days. Or weeks. Years, really.

“C’mere,” Ginny whispered, guiding Harry’s head into the crook of her neck as her hands found his shoulder blades and traced them tenderly. She felt his sharp ribs become even more pronounced as he took a deep breath, and then less pronounced again as he sighed it all out. He was a fairly bony boy, though not as much as he had been when she’d first met him. It must be genetic, Ginny thought, though only half her attention was on the subject. She’d seen the amount Harry ate in the Great Hall, and he most certainly wasn’t being starved now like he was during that summer.

They sat like that for a while, Ginny exploring Harry’s back and Harry trying to categorize each layer of the way Ginny smelled. Flowery, but with a hint of something cool and crisp too, like a cucumber or a fresh green leaf in the spring. Perhaps that was her conditioner… 

It was mindless thinking, a welcome distraction. 

It was only after they separated, when Harry saw the small wet spot on Ginny’s olive green shirt, that he realized he must have cried. He hadn’t even noticed when he’d started to think about his dream, but he could still feel that stinging emptiness. That overwhelming feeling pulled behind his eye sockets, the need to save Sirius from his fate, even if he died doing it. 

Somehow, though, the emptiness seemed to have decreased in size a little. His chest no longer felt quite so hollow.

Ginny recognized that Harry’s eyes seemed to have lightened, and she gave him a quick peck on the lips. She thought about asking him to tell her more about the story of his transition - she wanted to make it very clear that she was interested in and supportive of this part of him - but then he cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her again. It was not particularly deep, but something about the insistence of the kiss told her that there was more waiting behind it. So, not for the first time, she delayed the dive into Harry’s life and kissed him instead. Perhaps he just needed to get more comfortable with her first. Well, this was certainly a satisfactory way of doing that, as far as Ginny was concerned.

Ginny rested her hands on Harry’s neck and felt the kiss grow more heated. She breathed heavily through her nose as Harry’s warm fingers smoothed over her freckled cheekbones. His knuckles were calloused from all the hours spent gripping his broomstick, and his skin smelled of a forest or wood-scented cologne (cedar?) with a hint of smoke (he spent a lot of time just a little too close to the fire in the common room). His taste was much simpler, however. Just a plain, light sweetness that Ginny couldn’t get enough of.

As their mouths connected blissfully once more, Ginny swiftly ran her tongue along Harry’s bottom lip. They had only snogged like that a few times before, and it was always rather sloppy. This time, though, Ginny was determined to get it right. 

As Harry’s mouth fell open, inviting her in, her tongue swiped slowly against his. That didn’t feel right, so she tried again, a bit quicker but still smooth, and it seemed better this time. It felt natural, almost. Harry reciprocated the movement and for a moment, their tongues danced. It felt so utterly vulnerable that Ginny felt as though all the air had been sucked from her lungs and had to pull away to catch her breath.

“Sorry, was that weird?” Harry asked hurriedly, but Ginny could only grin and shake her head. 

Once she had regained the ability to speak, she sighed, “No, I liked it. Did you?” 

Harry’s eyes lit up. “I did, actually.”

“Oh, well, then kiss me again. Unless you’re a coward?”

Harry chuckled, and Ginny felt his ribcage vibrate where their chests pressed together as he leaned in and captured her lips once more. It was all so nice. Ginny felt momentarily light headed as she breathed in through her nose and kissed Harry with all the pressure building in her skull. For a moment, she could have sworn she was a hot air balloon. Flames licked greedily at her diaphragm, propelling her higher and higher in a whirl of bright colors.

One of Harry’s hands moved to her stomach. Even with her eyes closed, Ginny could imagine his slender fingers rippling over her waist, over the small pudge around her belly button, up to her side. She shivered involuntarily and leaned back to look at Harry. His lips chased her for a moment, then his eyes opened and he looked at her, a question in his gaze. Ginny made a decision. She set her jaw, steeled herself, took Harry’s hand, and hovered it just above her breast. 

“Is this alright?” She asked, without a quaver in her voice. Harry didn’t reply, but instead looked at his own hand for several seconds. Ginny couldn’t place his expression. She relaxed her grip on his hand so he was free to remove it. “Do you want this?”

This time, at the sound of her voice, Harry’s stare fixed itself back on her face, and his hand closed the gap between them to softly cup her breast in his hand. His eyes were hooded yet attentive, watching for any reaction Ginny showed. She controlled her expression, but her arousal was evident in the way her collarbones stood out when she took a breath and held it. Harry began to apply a light pressure, and his thumb wandered carefully over the smooth material of her shirt. He leaned in then, and their lips connected with the force of an earthquake. Crashing together like tectonic plates, it was almost uncomfortable, but not quite. 

They had snogged rather a lot in the weeks they’d been together, but never like this. Ginny had never kissed anyone so hungrily, so desperately, and Harry clung to her like the world was spinning around him and she was the only stable patch of earth. He groped her harder. Ginny was surprised by how much she liked it, especially when she felt his hand graze over her nipple, even through her bra and shirt.

But all at once it slowed, until the intensity of their embrace was less like the meeting of tectonic plates and more akin to the mantle moving sluggishly beneath them. It was still heated, but Ginny began to worry that Harry had decreased the pace because it had been making him uncomfortable, or perhaps because it was simply too… exciting.

These thoughts were cut off, though, when Harry’s mouth moved to kiss the edge of her lip, then her cheek. Before Ginny had a chance to wonder what he was doing, his lips came to rest on her jaw and all traffic in her brain came to a standstill. 

She felt his momentary hesitation and quickly murmured, “Keep going.”

He progressed to her neck, and Ginny allowed her head to sink onto the cushion of the couch behind her. She felt a pleasant shiver work its way through her spine, each vertebrae tingling with a warm sensation as she felt Harry’s mouth brush against the tendons of her throat. Heat flooded her cheeks when she felt a light suction on her collarbone. In her mind’s eye, Ginny saw her body, glowing where Harry had touched her. For several minutes, she sat there, eyes flickering open and closed without really seeing the vaulted ceiling above her, as Harry continued his ministrations. Gradually, the kisses began to trail downwards, toward the V of her shirt neck. As good as it felt, however, Ginny thought it was time for a change. Placing her hands firmly on his shoulders, she sat up and pushed Harry back onto the armrest, crawling forward to position herself over his waist. She pulled her hair back and over one shoulder, where it lay in stark contrast with the green fabric.

Ginny leaned forward until her face was close to Harry’s. “I appreciate the attention. And I know you don’t like being in the spotlight, you never have,” She breathed against the shell of his ear. “But please, Harry, let me do something for you.”

Green fell into black like grass into a sinkhole as Harry’s eyes dilated. His knuckles paled as he tightened his fists and looked fervently up into eyes the color of fallen leaves. He took a moment to regain control of the air flowing in and out of his lungs, before responding in a rough, low voice.

“I - I do want to go farther, Ginny. I mean, _a lot_ -” He sucked a breath through his teeth and fought to keep his head. Clearing his throat, he went on “But… I think I need some time to figure out what I’m comfortable with, physically. There are a lot of things that could set off my dysphoria, and I don’t want to get carried away only for both of us to end up feeling bad. I just - I want to do all of this _right_ , you know?” 

Ginny blinked, then a smile sprouted like a stem through a crack in her lips as she leaned back. “I know,” she said simply. “I know you do. And I like that about you. I want to respect your boundaries too, so don’t ever hesitate to stop me.” Harry nodded earnestly at this, swallowing. “All right, what if I just kiss your neck? Is that okay? I want to return the favor.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind…” Harry trailed loftily, the mock indifference in his voice tainted by the nervously excited expression on his face.

Ginny bent down for a sweet kiss, but cut it short. She mimicked what Harry had done, making her way across his cheek to the sharp crest of his jaw, down the valley of his neck to the river of his throat. She drank in his scent as she kissed him, like a deer finding a freshwater stream after a day’s journey. Her hands chased the lines of his body, down his sides and over his arms. Harry’s fingers carded through her hair, sighing freely, and there was that feeling again, of floating. Heated air pushed them both farther up into the atmosphere until every dark crack and every sharp ridge on the ground was distant and small.

They flew higher and higher together, and neither one of them looked down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope people liked this chapter. I'm trying really hard to present the characters in a realistic light and I hope it's workin! I'm totally open to feedback and constructive criticism. Please!  
> There will probably only be a few more chapters like this before we get into post-war, and that's when the actual plot will start. I'm just laying the foundation first. Sorry if it's slow so far, I promise it'll get there.


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